


Deserving It

by CupcakeGirlA



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/CupcakeGirlA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt - I want bitchy Johnny Weir mouthing off about Plushenko really deserving gold, with Evan hearing it and being all upset. Apologies and make-up sex afterwards.</p><p>Gen version of the prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deserving It

No one saw him standing there, in the corner of the Rec room. This was the room the American Olympians flocked to whenever they had a little time for rest and relaxation but didn’t want to seclude themselves away in their rooms. This is where they went when they wanted to enjoy the company of their country-men (and women) without the pressure of competition hanging over your heads. Couches, TVs, board games, Arcade games, and videogames spread across the room offered a large number of options. On this particular night it was the TV’s nightly recap that had everyone absorbed. Evan stood in the back corner, aggravated that his room didn’t have a TV, and his laptops Wi-Fi had chosen now to cut out on him. He watched from the corner and stood still, not wanting to attract attention. His corner was darker than the others, the light had gone out over the pool table and it left him hovering in darkness, not that he minded. He just wanted to listen to the TV, see what the latest on the controversy was. He’d only been a gold-medalist for just a day and already the high was nearly gone from his win.

Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned back into the wall, feeling the weight of his medal around his neck, under his jacket. He had yet to part with it for more than the time it took to shower. He’d worked for 16 years to get the metal, it was the only one he’d ever have from an Olympics, and he didn’t want to put it down. It was like if he put it down he’d turn back and find it gone and that its existence was just a dream. The NBC sportscasters ended their discussion of speed-skating and turned to figure skating instead. Evan sat up a little more against the wall as Evgeni’s face flashed across the screen. The amusement in the reporters voice as he repeated the newest comments Plushenko had made that day, made Evan’s stomach sink. This wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve this, even if he had taken out the Quad from his program. That didn’t make him less deserving. Why did that damn Russian have to keep opening his stupid mouth? A bark of laughter made Evan turn to the door.

Johnny fucking Weir stood just inside, grinning widely.

“Are they still playing those ridiculous clips?” he asked, his grin widening on his face. “Evgeni was robbed. He’s really pissed. Yadda Yadda Yadda! This is old news already! Someone change it!” he called, coming in further to flop down on the couch. Evan felt his blood run cold. Of everyone who might have been on his side, he’d been counting on Weir. Which told you how fucking insecure he was at the moment. That Johnny of all people would say anything nice about Evan Lysacek was unlikely at the best of times, Evan didn’t know why some part of him had been counting on it this time. But had it been so out of the realm of possibility? This past year or so, things had been better between them. There had been a thawing toward each other, less sniping and pointed remarks to the press. They’d even had a few pleasant conversations at competitions when they saw each other on and off the ice. It was like both of them had suddenly decided to grow up this past year, to stop acting like rival school boys trying to out-bitch each other. Evan felt his hands curl into fists as everyone started to laugh.

“You think so, Weir? Isn’t that a bit unpatriotic? Agreeing that your teammate got more than he deserved?” one of the snow boarders on the end of the couch, turned to look at Johnny, shifting the bowl of popcorn in his lap. A ripple of laughter filtered through the room.

“Everyone knows I have a great love of Mother Russia, but never-the-less yes, I do agree. Evgeni Plushenko is one of the very best male figure skaters we’ve had in generations. No one jumps like he does,” Johnny smirked, sinking back into the couch cushions, and snagging a handful of popcorn.

“Really, Johnny?” Evan watched Tanith lean forward into the room through the open doorway. “An artistic skater like you agreeing that jumps are the end-all and be-all of figure skating?” The crowd hushed. Johnny turned to smile at her.

“Of course not, but this is Plushenko and Lysacek we’re discussing here, Tanith. I’m just being honest. Everyone thought he was going to win, and he should have.” Johnny replied smiling. Evan felt his face flush, and stepping away from the wall, walked quickly through the crowd and out of the room, slipping past Tanith in the doorway, her eyes going wide at seeing him.

“Shit,” she hissed, looking down the hallway. Leaning back in, she glared at Johnny. “Dammit J, he heard you!” Johnny sat up straighter on the couch, all of the laughter draining out of his face, the room going quiet.

 

Evan closed his dorm room door behind him, leaning back against the solid wood. Picking up his head he dropped it back against the door again. Fuck! He wanted to scream and shout, and pound something or someone into the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut fighting back tears. The weight of his gold weighed heavy against his neck, and he leaned forward, resting his palms on his knees, a physical ache blossoming in his chest. The medal swung out of his partially open jacket, hanging midair in front of him. Opening his eyes he stared down at it. Reaching up he pulled it off from around his neck. He let his fingers chase the waving rim around its circumference, feeling the texture change where the medal was etched, to where it was smoothly brightly shining and back again. His hand tightened around it, hiding it from view. Standing he moved to his dresser, half packed already for his early morning flight back to the states. He had a few days of interviews waiting for him, but for now he couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. Picking up an old worn T-shirt, he wrapped the medal inside it, and moved to his suitcase. Bending he started to put it in the inside compartment before stopping. Instead he moved to his carry-on and dropped it inside, zipping the bag closed over top of it. A knock on the door behind him sounded making him jump. Steeling himself, he went to open the door.

 

Johnny bounced on his feet, feeling conflicted. This wasn’t new. He often felt conflicted when it came to Evan. They’d been rival’s for so long, Evan his arch nemesis since they were just kids, that it was hard to be objective about it all. Part of him despised Evan for being so good, and for only getting better, when Johnny’s career had been in a downward slope the last few seasons. Part of him was reasonably jealous about Evan getting to achieve his dream, when Johnny hadn’t, and now never would. Still yet another part was, not happy, but proud of Evan. He HAD worked hard. He’s worked DAMN hard for a long time to get where he was, and he didn’t deserve to have that taken away, even if it was Plushenko doing the taking. Johnny was friends with Evgeni, was even planning to tour with him later this summer. Part of him was sad for his good friend, another was pissed he was being such a big bitch about it. Their sport, and yes he recognized it as a real honest to God SPORT, was objective. The judges judged. It wasn’t as simple as going out there and doing the best jump, or spin. It was the whole package. It took more than just a quad to deserve Gold, and he honestly believed Evan had deserved it, even without the quad. He’d worked harder, he’d been stronger. He’d skated better, than he ever had before, and the Gold medal had been his dream. For Plushenko it had been about pride, ego, proving he was best, and Johnny knew that too. So yeah, he’d said some immature bitchy things tonight, and Evan had heard. He’d caught the look on Evan’s face as he’d pushed through the room, and down the hall. Seen the anger and pain, and defeat there, and Johnny’s good mood at being the center of attention had vanished. So he’d gone after Evan, leaving the rec room behind, ducking away from his roommate, and tracking down Evan to his wonderfully private single room.

 

Evan opened his door to see Johnny standing there, and mentally groaning started to close it once more.

“Evan, wait!” Johnny said, sticking his foot in the door. Evan froze, looking at a point just over Johnny’s shoulder, unable to meet his teammates gaze. Johnny paused and then smiled tentatively. “Please don’t squash my new shoes, they’re designer. Come on, let me in.” Evan rolled his eyes but stepped back from the door, letting swing open, as he walked further into the room. Johnny stepped in behind him, looking around as he did, taking in the partially packed bags. “Going somewhere?” he asked. Evan grimaced.

“What do you want, Johnny?” he asked, taking another stack of t-shirts out of his dresser and over to the open suitcase, his back to Johnny.

“To apologize,” Johnny said sheepishly. Evan froze, his spine tightening. He shoved the t-shirts inside the case, and moved back to the dresser.

“Don’t bother,” was his reply. He didn’t look at Johnny, just kept packing his bags.

“Evan, I’m sorry!” Johnny said, stepping closer. “Will you please stop and look at me for a second?” Evan dropped his arm load of socks into the case, and turned around, his eyes hovering near the ground, his arms coming up to cross again in front of him. Johnny fought to control his own temper. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you heard what I said. I’m sorry I said it to begin with. It was wrong of me. Please accept my apology.” Evan scoffed.

“Fine you’re forgiven. You’ve apologized; your conscience is clear once more, now can you please go.” He started to turn back to his packing, but Johnny grabbed his arm. “I have a flight early in the morning back to the states. Interviews to do, to celebrate my historic triumph at the Olympics,” the sarcasm fairly dripped from his tongue. “I need to pack.”

“Evan?” Johnny stepped closer. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“Did Tanith put you up to this? Is that what this is about? Because if it is you can just forget about it, Johnny. It’s obvious how you really feel about my being given the gold, so stop it. I don’t know why I even thought you might possibly take my side in this whole fiasco. He’s your friend, I’m not. He’s Russian I’m not. He’s been doing this better and longer than I have. He had the quad and I didn’t. He’s won the gold before and I haven’t. He’s the fucking God of men’s figure skating. All hail the King!” Evan’s voice slowly escalated until he was shouting. Johnny stood still and listened. Evan froze. When he spoke again his voice was low, defeated. “He’s Evgeni Fucking Plushenko. I fucking idolized the asshole for most of my career. I should have known better.” His eyes met Johnny’s for the first time.

“That’s not true. Not any of it. Well some of it, you aren’t Russian and he is, and he did the quad, and you didn’t, and he has been doing this longer than you have, with the medals to show for it. But you also skated better than he did; better than any of us did! You deserved to win, Evan. He didn’t understand the points system; he missed a jump and was too cocky to fix it for himself. That’s what it came down to, Evan. A jump. He did a quad and missed a double. You did all your triples and you did them cleanly. He can’t say that! Your choreography was better, your jumps more evenly distributed. He fucking front-loaded, and he knows it!” Johnny’s protests grew more fervent as he continued speaking. “He fucked up, and rather than admit it and say congrats, he’s acting like a whiney little two year old who got beat for the first time at a board game. He’s being childish. We both know skating is about more than jumps, Evan. You deserved the gold.” Evan shook his head.

“I have people I’ve looked up too, saying I didn’t deserve it. I’ve got teammates saying I didn’t deserve it. I’ve got people emailing me and telling me I should hand the fucking medal over to the real winner,” he whispered. Johnny stepped closer, his hands moving to Evan’s shoulders.

“Fuck them. Fuck them all!” Johnny replied. Evan leaned closer, his expression changing.

“Are you being glib, Johnny or are you offering,” Johnny grins at him.

“Don’t be a tease, Evan,” he warns. He steps forward, and getting handsy unzips Evan’s jacket and pulls it open. “Hugh? I thought you’d be wearing it,” he said quietly.

“My medal?” Evan asked. Johnny smirked at him.

“I’d have not taken it off yet, if it were me,” he confided. Evan frowned.

“I haven’t really, not until recently,” he frowned weakly. “It’s in my carry-on, for the flight tomorrow.” Johnny dives right into the carry-on hunting around until he finds the medal. He stands there staring at it, lifting and dropping it as if feeling the heft if it in his hand. “It’s just as heavy as I thought it would be…” he said quietly.

“You should have been up there too, Johnny.” Johnny grinned at him.

“That’s nice of you to say, but I don’t really want to hear it.” Evan nodded sitting down on the bed. Johnny held the medal up to the light, watching it spin back and forth and back and forth on its ribbon. “You won gold, Evan,” Johnny said quietly still staring at the medal. He looked at Evan after a moment. “You deserved to win. Own it, Lysacek.” He held the medal out. Evan stood slowly and took it from him, pulling the ribbon around his neck. He felt better with it there once more.

“Who knew I’d be getting a pep-talk from you of all people?” Evan asked. Johnny smirked.

“It will now, and forever, be more likely than you to get one from Plushenko.” Evan snorted with laughter in reply. Johnny frowned again. “Don’t listen to their crap. Enjoy every minute of this. And you should know by now I can be a total Bitch. Don’t listen when I rant. I don’t mean it half the time.” Evan smirked.

“I kind of figured that out a couple of seasons ago…” he said quietly. Johnny grinned briefly.

“We’ve had a great run, haven’t we?” Johnny asked suddenly contemplative. Evan nodded.

“You’ve been my biggest and best competition, Johnny.” Johnny grinned widely.

“Ditto.”

“You pushed me,” Evan confided. “Wanting to beat you... It made me work harder, and try better. Thank you for that.”

“Hey, you act like this is the end? There’s Worlds and next season.” Johnny turned away from him and headed back to the door.

“I’m not doing Worlds.” Evan confided. Johnny turned to look at him.

“Why not?” Johnny asked. Evan fingered his medal.

“I have what I wanted. I’m the reigning World Champion, and the reigning Olympic Champion. Evgeni will be at World’s and you can bet he will spend the next 6 weeks perfecting every jump he fucked up here. If he beat me there, if would just cement his unfair loss here in the minds of everyone who watched. Why give him the opportunity? Why kill myself trying to get something I already have?” Johnny had no answer. “I’m retiring Johnny. I have the Stars tour coming up and something fun happening in LA starting soon. I want to go out on top.” Johnny nodded.

“It won’t be the same without you. My arch nemesis...” his grin made Evan laugh.

“I’ll see you around, Johnny.” Johnny game forward and wrapped his arms around Evans shoulders, hugging him tightly. When the hug ended, Johnny leaned up and pressed his mouth to Evans in a firm but chaste kiss. When he pulled back he looked at Evan for a moment, before pecking him on the mouth with a quick kiss and backing away toward the door.

“You’ll be back for the exhibition?” he asked. Evan grinned.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Bye, Evan. Have a safe flight.” The door clicked shut behind him. Evan stared at it for a moment, one hand gripping his gold medal.

The next morning as Evan boarded a plane heading back to LA, to start several days of press, he wore his Gold medal proudly on his chest, his face covered in a huge grin. He was an Olympic Gold Medalist, an Olympic Champion, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

 

The End.


End file.
